“You’re going to be a mother,” he tells me. “That means putting what you want aside, Melanie.” His tone is bitter, and I hate it when he calls me by my full name. This and the fact that he combined it with the M word makes my head spin. Just the thought of someone calling me mommy makes me dizzy. My throat tightens. I feel my organs being crushed, panic rushing to the surface. This is why I can’t sleep. I can’t breathe. I’m suffocating in my lies.
Tom doesn’t notice. He pushes the cutting board my way. “Can you finish slicing the cucumber?”
“I thought you wanted me to take it easy?”
“Well, I have to tend to the grill.” His brow lifts. “I assume you want to eat.”
I roll my eyes and step toward him. He hands me the knife.
“You are so beautiful,” he tells me, his hand on mine. I stare at
